


Ellie In Italy

by themauvefairy



Category: Ellie In Italy
Genre: Acceptance, Adventure, Coming of Age, F/M, Independent Women, M/M, Mystery, Romance, Running Away, Set in Europe, uncovering the past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24625666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themauvefairy/pseuds/themauvefairy
Summary: A fourteen year old girl whose father died when she was nine runs away from her strict family in Italy when she learns that her best friend, her father’s old confidant named Timothy, is moving away to Paris. Instead of going to the boarding school that her grandparents and mother insist is “best for her”, Ellie and her new friend Leo pledge to make their way to Paris, find Timothy, and live their own lives of freedom and adventure. As a result, they begin to unearth the truth about Ellie's father's death, and learn more and more about his past.





	1. Waving the Yellow Handkerchief

As he drove off in his rusted, wheezing pickup truck, I waved Nonna’s yellow embroidered handkerchief high. I jumped up and down, even though I knew he wouldn’t see me. He was gone, and the sun was slipping up past the horizon line. After all, it was time to go home, even if it meant being reprimanded by my grandparents. 

~  
Waking up in an Italian summer was like waking up in your own faraway kingdom. Everybody is happy to see you, and when you walk outside, an old-fashioned carriage is waiting to take you wherever you wish to explore. Everything about this town was like living a dream. Everything, of course, except the fact that I had to deal with my grandparents. Each and every summer since I was nine years old, the year my father died, my mother sends me to Italy to live with my Nonna and Pop. Now I was fourteen, still each and every summer I unpack my bags, and prepare to swear by the rules of the strict, traditional woman my Nonna was. Like my stern mother, she makes me fold my clothes, dust her furniture, and most irritatingly, eat like a lady.  
Pop, on the other hand, didn’t really care about what I did as long as I followed his rules, and didn’t sneak out after dark. His son, my father, must have done that a countless number of times when he lived here. That, of course, is how he met with his dearest friend, Timothy. When they were young, they used to meet up in Timothy’s father’s candy store and stuff their mouths until they dropped to the floor. Now that candy store belonged to Timothy, who lets me spend my summer days there, escaping my worries and the struggles of the past. Back at home in California, I didn’t have many friends. I was shy, and insecure at school. Although, father, now Timothy, gave me the confidence and courage of a lion.  
Sitting on the edge of my uncomfortable bed in the attic, which was completely empty of everything my father once owned, I groaned as I remembered my inevitable future. As a result of what they thought was “for my own good”, my Nonna, Pop and Mother were sending me to boarding school next beginning semester. They believed I needed to get rid of my sense of adventure. However, I knew that they just wanted to erase all memories of my father, who they thought gave me bad ideas and caused me to lose my sense of discipline.  
Luckily, my father introduced me to Timothy when I first came to Italy, back when we took family vacations to visit instead of staying the entire time I was out of school. My father always loved to see me try new things, and when he died, Timothy took me under his wing. Like my father, he took me new places around Italy and introduced me to new foods. We still do this, to this day. He makes me feel careless, like I could do anything I put my mind to. When I am with Timothy, I feel I am floating. He’s the only part of my father that’s left, besides a pair of boots Dad gave me right before he passed away. Every morning after making Nonna content with my chores, I place a wide-brimmed sun hat over my dark, curly hair, put on Daddy’s boots, and climb into a horse and carriage. I watched the children free of duties and dictator grandmothers and draining schools, like birds flying in the great blue sky. I see them running around, chasing each other, bumping into the annoyed marketers who were selling vibrant fruits and clothes. Marketstreet was a place of thriving people, who all had an interesting place to be.  
Finally stopping at Timothy’s, I stepped out of the carriage and saw the swaying, creaking and chipping gas station sign above my head. I skipped up the gravel path to the screen door that concealed an inside that no one would expect for the rundown, aging exterior. Opening the door, I was relieved as I saw the heartwarming red and white vintage wonderland, with shelves and shelves of homemade candy and rich chocolates. Walking into the store was like watching Cinderella’s magical transformation, from rags to riches, and Timothy was the fairy godmother. Walking inside, I heard the ring of the “customer has entered” bell. I grinned as I approached the counter, however as I grew closer, I noticed that Timothy had a bittersweet look on his aged, dark grey bearded face. His eyes, behind familiar small round glasses, glistened in a strange fashion.  
“Ellie! It is so good to see you!” chirped Timothy in his accented, optimistic tone. Even behind his cheer, I could tell something was not right. He looked exhausted, disheveled, and not as well put together as I remembered him all the years before.  
“I am so delighted to be back here, I missed you! How are you?” I asked sincerely. Timothy laughed with a nervous tone, adjusting his glasses and holding his protruding stomach.  
“Well, things haven’t been going too well with the store lately, I am sorry to say. There just haven’t been as many customers as usual, and based on my own decision, I am going to hand the business over to a good man who will make it something new.” Timothy admitted, just like that. I held my breath, and processed his words. What? He wasn’t making sense to me, even though I knew exactly what he meant. What about all the days we spent sipping chocolate milkshakes, laughing as I told stories about Pop falling asleep during dinner, or me tricking Nonna that there was a rat in the house? What about my favorite moments, when Timothy would tell me stories about my father, and all the adventures they used to go on? I felt panic take over my body. I shook my head and creased my eyebrows with pure confusion. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard.  
“Ellie, I am so sorry. I know how much this store means to you. I promise that once the summer is over, we will not lose contact.” He sighed. I let my mind drift, and I was floating. Not listening to what my poor friend was saying, I let my eyes scan to the glass window counter. Besides the perfectly swirled chocolate mousse and bowls of mouthwatering gummies, I saw a tray of colorful, round cookies, which I knew to be French macarons. I couldn’t recall Timothy making those before, but yet again, I couldn’t believe the fact that the place where so many beautiful memories were made was being handed over to some careless businessman. I didn't care if Timothy thought he meant well.  
“I..” I tried to express my sympathy and let Timothy know that it would all be okay, like I normally would. However, all I did was turn around and run out the door. My sunhat blew off my head and landed on the ground behind me, but I just kept running. Losing my breath and resorting to a walk, I reached my grandparent’s house. I could smell the inviting aroma of Nonna’s tomato sauce, but I knew that this place was not my home. My home was gone. I entered the kitchen and sat down at the wooden table I previously scrubbed, putting my head down.  
“You didn’t tell me..” I mumbled into the creases of my elbows. “You didn’t tell me Timothy lost his shop.” I heard Nonna stop stirring the sauce. I knew she’d known this for a while now, and I knew that she could care less. She’d probably celebrated when she found out.  
“Ellie, we know that you care about that store, and that you spend quite a bit of time with the owner. However, you are going to school in a month, so what does it matter? You were spending too much time with that man anyway. Your grandfather and I have decided that we are not allowing you to talk to him anymore. It’s a good thing he’s moving away.” Nonna snipped. That witch had her hands on her hips, like this was some kind of punishment. I looked over at Pop, who nodded. Moving away? Timothy did not tell me about that.  
“Where is he moving, Nonna?” I asked in a concerned tone. She looked at me with annoyed eyes, and wiped her already clean hands on her handkerchief.  
“Paris, that lunatic. I guess his little vacation sparked his interest.” She sighed. Of course! That was why he had those macarons on display. Why would he do this to me, and move so far away? How were we going to keep in touch if he was in Paris and I was in America? I couldn’t even talk to him for the rest of the summer, but for the rest of forever? I stayed silent for the rest of dinner, and I didn’t gain any sympathy, which didn’t come as a surprise. Later that night, after thinking long and hard whilst doing the dishes, I came to a conclusion. It was more like a plan, really. Since Nonna and Pop would never in a million years let me go visit Timothy, I would sneak out in the night and say goodbye. Only if I knew when he was leaving.  
That evening, after I put my nightgown on, I went downstairs to brush my teeth in the fancier “Nonna-fied” bathroom. However, as I approached the bathroom door, I overheard my grandmother on the phone in her bedroom. From her tone and the topic being discussed, I knew she was talking to my mother.  
“Tina, of course we’re not letting her go over there again. As a matter of fact, Mr. Ricci is leaving tonight.” Nonna gossiped in her posh tone. Tonight? I covered my mouth as I held the side of my face up to the wooden bedroom door, as quiet as a hunter trying not to scare his target. As soon as I heard her shift around inside, I sprinted to the bathroom where I brushed my teeth in a matter of seconds, then ran upstairs where I turned my lights off and pretended to get some shuteye. For minutes and minutes I stared at the ceiling, the same one my father scanned with his eyes when he was my age. With Timothy leaving, it was as if my father and all that is left of him was going away with him.  
When the time felt right, and not a sound was heard downstairs, I got out of bed and put Daddy’s boots on. I took a deep breath, and began to creep down the stairs, with the stealth of a cat in the night. When I reached the bottom, I sneaked across the kitchen, and tiptoed closer and closer to the window above Nonna’s waist-length food cabinet. Nonna’s handkerchief was resting on the top, which I tucked into my boot. I easily climbed on top of the cabinet, and my heart stopped as I fidgeted with the window clasp. It opened!  
I felt the cool night air on my face, and breathed in the feeling of liberty my father used to describe to me. I jumped like a monkey out of the window, onto the grass beneath. Knowing that time was against me, I sprinted as fast as I could into the empty street, making my way in the direction of the store. Minutes later I reached my destination, and stood by the door. The sound of an engine made me stop in my tracks, as my head turned towards the road. Already driving away in his rickety pickup truck was Timothy, and out of breath, I didn’t continue running.  
What was the point, I asked myself? I couldn’t move to Paris. It was as if I knew my fate all along, but still believed I was going to gain justice. However, as I reached down to get Nonna’s handkerchief, I saw my wide-brimmed hat sitting by my feet. There was an envelope inside, which I picked up and ripped open. There was a letter, with words scribbled in loopy handwriting. It read…

Dear Ellie,  
I am so sorry that I had to leave without telling you. You ran home in shock, which I feel bad for causing. You are such a bright young adventurer, and I will surely miss our little trips together, milkshake parties and most of all, telling you about your father. You remind me so much of him, with your fearless soul and appetite for living with no boundaries. You deserve to have self-worth, and maybe you will find it in boarding school. I know you’re not excited to go there in August, but just think of it as another “avventura”. You can take on whatever life throws at you. I will miss you,  
Timothy. 

It was not closure, but it was enough for now. I picked up my hat and gazed off into the distance. I waved Nonna’s yellow handkerchief high. I jumped up and down, even though I knew he wouldn’t see me. He was gone, and the sun was slipping up past the horizon line. After all, it was time to go home, even if it meant facing what lay ahead. I smiled for the dreadful lecture I’d be given when I returned, if Nonna and Pop even noticed I was gone. As my salty tears danced across my face, I told myself that all the memories I had- with Timothy and my father- were not erased from time itself. This was only the beginning of a life of beautiful experiences, boarding school and beyond.


	2. An Out of the Blue Accomplice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And we’re not little children, and we know what we want, and the future is certain, give us time to work it out.” - Talking Heads, Road to Nowhere

As I opened my eyes and looked out the clouded window, I saw, in the distance, the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower. Paris! Timothy was near, I could just feel it. Opening the compartment door with my suitcase in hand, I made sure to be extra quick as I made my way down the corridor of the train. I could see the day peeking in the door growing closer and closer before me, and carefully trying not to trip, I stepped down the stairs out of the train, and into the city of lights.

~  


I wasn’t wrong when I said I was in for a cruel lecture. Nonna had been waiting by the door for “at least an hour”, and was “ _ this _ close to calling the Polizia” as she exaggerated with her fingers. When I went inside and sat down at the table, Pop didn’t have anything to say to me except “Young lady, who do you think you are?” I broke his only real rule- not sneaking out at night, something Daddy had mastered breaking before he died. I hope I made my father proud, for Nonna wasn’t impressed at all. In fact, I only had time to grab an apple out of the bowl on the table before she clenched my arm, dragged me up the stairs, and threw me in my room with a “Start packing!” 

Where in the world could I be going? Boarding school didn’t start until August, and it was only the end of June. Later that day I found out, when my Nonna came into my bedroom and told me that I was to be staying with my Uncle Luca in Florence until school started. I had never met my uncle, only when I was a baby. Was he as ruthless as my grandparents? I threw my suitcase down on my bed and sat beside it. Nobody was on my side from the day my father died, no one except Timothy, and now he was gone for Paris and his candy shop was in the clutches of some pointless businessman. Paris... France wasn’t far from Florence. Maybe my life wasn’t over.

By the next morning, I had stuffed every dress and skirt I owned into my suitcase, adding a map, my toothbrush, some money, and a drawing of my father I had found in Timothy’s truck one day when we were on one of our adventures. Every other trace of Dad was gone from my grandparent’s house, and seemingly their minds. They never approved of him, and it appeared that they felt the same way about me. Putting on Daddy’s boots and heading downstairs, Nonna looked at me with an almost sympathetic face, but quickly snapped out of it and motioned to outside, where Pop was waiting to grab my belongings and put them in his car, which I entered silently, closing the door behind me. It wasn’t long before he sat down behind the wheel and drove me away from a place I don’t think I could ever have called home.

The car ride was only to the train station that would take me to Florence- and once Pop handed me my suitcase and patted me on the back firmly, I was on my own, watching the man who was supposed to be like a father to me abandon me with what looked like not a single regret. Was this “for my own good” as well? I used the money he so  _ generously _ gave me to buy myself a twelve-o'clock one-way ticket to the once art center of the world. I awkwardly stood around the platform I navigated until the green and yellow train pulled in, and pulling my bags over one shoulder and holding my suitcase by my side, I stepped onto the train car with a deep breath in. 

Making my way down the corridor to my left, I entered the nearest empty compartment and plopped down my belongings on the seat opposite me. I wasn’t planning to make any new friends- or maybe I should try, as I don’t think any of the girls in boarding school will want to associate with me. It seemed I was in luck, as a boy with curly, chocolate colored hair and a thin face was outside the door looking around with a helpless, humorous look. He met my eyes from outside the window, holding his hands up with an “I don’t know” shrug. I copied his gesture with a personal groan, getting up from my seat and opening the door slowly. I quickly shoved my things over, making room for the boy to sit facing me, which he did with a grateful yet amusingly sorry smile. 

“Thanks,” he said, “all the seats were taken.” He fixed his curls and moved his hands over his knees, flattening his pants. He met my eyes with an eager gaze, as if he was searching my face for a name. “You look American- what are you called, Caroline, Olivia?” 

I laughed sarcastically. “Ellie, actually,” I returned. “And you are?”

“Leonardo, but  _ you _ can call me Leo.” He insisted, turning to search in his bag and pulling out a heavy-looking black camera. Do you mind if I take a picture of you? I like to remember people’s faces.”

“No...” I said hesitantly, as he motioned for me to pose. I put my hands on my lap and kept a straight face- I was never one to smile, especially since Timothy told me he’d sold the candy store. However, thinking about him, I got an idea- one to make me crack a small grin as “Leo” snapped away. What if I  _ could _ see Timothy again? This train stopped in Florence but I could catch another one, one to take me all the way to Paris...

“That’s great, thanks.” Leo said, carefully placing his camera back in his single bag, his only bag. “So  _ are _ you from America, Ellie?” He asked with a curious tone.

“My mother is from California and my father was Italian. I guess that makes me Italian-American.” I responded, looking out the window. We were moving fast.

“Ah. I notice you said ‘was’, your father, is he?”

“Yes.” I answered, before my new acquaintance could finish his question.

“I see. I’m sor-”

“Thank you.” I had heard those words a thousand times, but what was anyone really sorry for? That my father had to fall off a balcony when Mom and I were halfway across the world? That I grew up with a family who never really seemed to care as much as they should? No one ever specifies.

Leo shifted a bit in his seat, I could tell I wasn’t making this easy on him. I felt bad- I didn’t try to be as bitter as my Nonna, but with the way things have been going lately, I just don’t know if I can help it.   
“Where are you heading?” I asked as politely as possible to my new potential friend. He looked me straight in the eye and said,

“I don’t know. Anywhere, really, I do what I please.” Then, seeing that I was a bit surprised, Leo continued, “My father left my mom and I when I was pretty young, and my mother says that I should not have to worry about taking care of her, as she wants me to make something of myself. As long I write, she says, I can go wherever I need- or want.” 

What a life! This boy in front of me had all the freedom in the world. “I envy you,” I say, “My father died when I was nine and every summer since my mom sends me here to live with my Nonna and Pop, but neither of them cared about him, and they feel the same about me. Now they’ve sent me to stay with my Uncle in Florence until I go to boarding school in Milan.”

Leo seemed to understand my troubles, for even though I had just met him, he nodded at me with what looked like full sympathy- something people have tried to give me before but failed. “Do you really want to go there?” He inquired.

“No, and frankly, I’m debating whether or not I should hop on another train once this one stops and take it all the way to Paris!” I exclaimed, and we both laughed and laughed in perfect unison, for the love of spontaneity. 

“Well, I  _ would _ call you crazy, but that’s something I would do, so I can’t blame you.” Leo stared at me silently after that for a few seconds, as if he’d been waiting to find someone like me, someone that wouldn’t blame him either. “Honestly, I could come with you.”

I let out a giggle, and smiled. “Yes you could!”

~  


We spent the hour to Florence talking about our lives and all the things we wished we could change about them. Leo confessed that he was only 15, a year older than me, and that he’d been traveling alone since he was 12. In three years he’d seen most of Italy, visited Switzerland, France, Spain, and had even taken a boat to England. Even so, the one place he wanted to go the most was America- the place that held the worst of memories for me. I told Leo about Timothy and his friendship with my father, watching my new friend’s eyes widen as I explained that my once-companion was on his way to a new life in the city of love, leaving his candy store and his memories with me behind as if they meant nothing at all. Though I didn’t have much time to think about it, the more and more I imagined making conversation with my unfamiliar Uncle as if everything was alright, and walking into a school with foreign faces two months later and attempting to establish a life for myself on that path, I felt sick to my stomach. There was more for me in this world, and I had to do something about it. 

The train pulled into the station around 1:30 in the afternoon, and once it stopped, Leo and I exchanged a glance that confirmed our discussed plan: we were to catch the next train to Paris. Stepping onto the platform with our things, we made sure to look unassuming as we bought ourselves sodas and sandwiches, eating quickly. 

“Let me buy your ticket.” He told me, and waved his hands in an ‘X’ shape when I tried to refuse it. Once we finished our food, we made our way to the booth where the train tickets were being sold. I immediately noticed the questioning face of the man behind the bars. 

“Hello sir, we’d like two tickets for the 3 o’clock train to Paris.” I announced, stepping up to the caramel-colored counter. The man let his eyes move from me to Leo, whose face was as straight and as hard as stone.

“And why would two young looking kids like you be wanting to board that train all by yourselves?” The man asked in a snooty tone, his nose pointing up towards the sky like my Nonna’s. 

“Our parents are waiting for us in Paris.” I responded matter-of-factly. With one last look of suspicion, the man donned in an evergreen waistcoat seemed to let go of his pride, and handed us two tickets. I searched the bag over my shoulder for as much cash as I could find, and once I got a handful, I slapped it onto the counter with a feeling of absolute independence. 

“That was brilliant,” Leo exclaimed as we walked away from the ticket booth, the immensity of the platform and all the people scurrying like mice hitting me like a splash of cold water. We were really doing this. 

The two of us were almost running by the time the train came into view, it’s charcoal color and red accents making me feel like I was in some sort of old movie. Catching our breaths as we stopped, Leo placed his hand on my back as he helped me up the stairs onto the train car, nodding with an assuring grin to the freight conductor. 

Once we were on the train, the two of us found an empty compartment and shut the door behind us, placing our belongings next to us as we sat, once again, facing each other. Leo’s eyes were a nice shade of hazel, easier to look at than my dark, intense ones. He was wearing a button up collared shirt, a beige one with black denim pants. I wondered about what he carried in his tote bag, how much money he was living off of, what he planned to do to make it if his mother wasn’t sending it to him. 

“So, how  _ do _ you plan to find Timothy?” Leo inquired as we settled in our seats, with an eager look exaggerated by his thick eyebrows. 

“Well, I guess I’m going to have to keep an eye out for a rusty pickup truck, and any candy store grand-openings… Paris isn’t  _ that  _ big,” I winced. 

“It’ll be alright,” Leo shrugged, “I’ll find us a place to sleep, and I can make us some money.” He reached into his seemingly bottomless bag and pulled out a violin and bow, earning a look of amazement from myself. 

“You mean people will tip you and all that?” I asked.

“And all that!” He said.

~

After about two hours of resting and talking on the train, we bought some nuts and crackers from the trolley lady who stopped at our compartment- Leo had some bottles of water already. Looking out the window at the endless green of the Florence countryside, and the occasional tall, many-windowed homes that reminded me of my house back in California, I thought about my mother and what she always said to me whenever I complained about having to do something I didn’t want to; “The world is only your oyster when you take all the opportunities you are given.” She said that to me when she broke the news that I was to be sent to boarding school for the rest of my education, but sitting here on this train on my way to the cultural center of the world, I believe I’ve stayed true to her word. I know that father would be proud of me for this, and that gives me more assurance than anything. 

“Ellie… Ellie!” I heard softly as I opened my eyes to Leo’s sleepy but warm and eager face. Looking out the window to see nothing but darkness, I fell into the illusion of night, and realized that I’d been sleeping for quite a while. It made sense, as I didn’t rest at all the night Timothy left, and I was too troubled to give into my body’s yearnings last night. 

“What time is it?” I yawned as Leo checked his wristwatch. 

“Three in the morning.” I heard, continued by “We’ve got to think about what we’re gonna do when we reach…” France was close, I could feel it in my normally restless bones, but I clocked out again to the sound of Leo’s comforting whisper…

_ I was flying above a midnight city, the stars were blinding- I felt a hand grab onto my shoulder. Turning around I saw a handsome face smiling, his eyes like rabbit holes to Wonderland, his skin a familiar olive color. His hair was curly and healthy looking… it was like my drawing… I looked down and saw a balcony with curtains blowing in the wind, the man paid no attention, my father was alive, he was alive- _

__

“Hey, you gotta wake up,” said my new willing familiar, my probable partner in crime, my- “We’re here!”

As I opened my eyes and looked out the clouded window, I saw, in the distance, the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower. Paris! Timothy was near, I knew it. Looking at Leo with a grin of relief, we readied ourselves for our new reality. Opening the compartment door with my suitcase in hand, I made sure to be extra quick as I made my way down the corridor of the train, my confidant following close behind. I could see the day peeking in the door growing closer and closer before me, and carefully trying not to trip, I stepped down the stairs out of the train, and into the city of lights.

_   
  
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End file.
